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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303695">Potheads</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickiegreenleaf/pseuds/dickiegreenleaf'>dickiegreenleaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Baked and Glazed [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Getting Together, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strangers to Lovers, merry christmas sierra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:42:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickiegreenleaf/pseuds/dickiegreenleaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dan runs a pottery studio, bad Christmas gifts are given, and Phil is really just no good at working clay.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Baked and Glazed [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Potheads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/gifts">sierraadeux</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a quick christmas gift i whipped up for sierra :) louise and i decided they deserved all their fic dreams to come true, so i hope this suffices.</p><p>merry christmas, thanks for being the bestest friend ever, and im sorry about all the weed jokes</p><p>also disclaimer i know NOTHING about pottery apart from the part of community when they all take that pottery class</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Phil is many things. He’s kind, he’s generous, he’s creative. He loves his family to the ends of the Earth, and he’s always willing to help a friend in need. He finds magic in everyday life, and he never leaves a sweet uneaten. None of these many things Phil is, however, includes coordinated. His family has long since accepted that the part of Phil that connects his brain to his muscles is on a kind of permanent holiday.</p><p>So when Martyn’s new girlfriend got Phil three class vouchers at a pottery studio in London for Christmas, there was no way to respond other than a polite thank you and a hug.</p><p>No one actually expected Phil to go.</p><p>Yet here he is, crisp January air nipping at his reddened cheeks as he looks up, checking that the neon sign above the shop reads Baked and Glazed<em>. </em> The puff of air he snorts out at the name comes out as smoke in the frigid cold. </p><p>Phil pulls off his cotton gloves by the ring finger, stuffs them in his coat pocket, and reaches for the door handle. Through the glass shopfront, he can see that the decor is very industrial with plants on nearly every surface. Warm light pours through the windows, almost brighter inside than it is outside. The place is packed with patrons, ostensibly people with similar “try new things” New Year’s resolutions. Phil gets the sense that this place is far too cool for him.</p><p>Phil pulls open the front door, a blast of warm air dragging him in immediately. The place is blasting some jazzy song, and the pottery-people (potters? potheads?) are chatting animatedly amongst themselves in the two lines of wheels that make up the studio. Each station faces toward the middle of the studio from either side, where a tall man with brown hair wearing an apron walks up and down the lines, animatedly making some obscene gestures to the potters.</p><p>“Hello!” calls a voice from Phil’s left. He tears his eyes away from the whole pottery situation and turns his head to see a heavily-pierced woman smiling at him from behind a receptionist’s desk. “Welcome to Baked and Glazed. How can I help you?”</p><p>Phil shoves his hands deeper into his pockets as he walks up to the woman at the desk. “Hi there...” He looks at her name tag. “Della.” She smiles, more genuinely this time. “I have, um…” He pulls out his right hand from his pocket and opens the zipper pocket on the breast of his coat. “These!” He whips out the coupons Cornelia had given him. </p><p>“Oh, fantastic,” Della says, turning her eyes to the computer and typing something on the keyboard. “Is this your first time with us?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Are you experienced with pottery-making?”</p><p>Phil lets out a bark of a laugh. Della looks up, giving him a small, questioning smile. “Um, no. No, not at all.”</p><p>Della types some more at the computer.</p><p>“And could I get your name?”</p><p>“Phil,” he replies. After a beat, he adds, “Lester.”</p><p>Della types a bit more then looks up. “Alright, Phil. The beginner’s class starts in 10 minutes. Dan over there,” she nods her head toward the class going on right now, “will be your instructor. You can have a seat right over there while you wait.” She gives him another bright smile, pointing to the small sitting area to the right of the door. </p><p>Phil thanks her and turns, seeing a handful of people already sitting at the mismatched velvet couches, probably waiting for the same class as Phil. He feels a bit like an awkward child again as he notices that everyone seems to know someone else, either there with a significant other or a group of friends. Mentally, he smacks himself for not offering one of the other tickets to Martyn or one of his London friends.</p><p>Phil takes a seat in a green chair facing the pottery wheels. Under the bright studio lights, the tall apron guy—Dan, apparently—continues to make weird gestures with his hands, talking animatedly to his students. Under the apron, he’s wearing black jeans and a black turtleneck. Phil can’t believe he isn’t sweating from the exertion. </p><p>Phil cranes his neck a bit, squinting and trying to get a look at what the potters are making, hoping to absorb some kind of technique so he doesn’t completely embarrass himself. He hopes the class is an advanced one, because the jugs and vases he sees are firmly out of his wheelhouse. </p><p>He watches Dan smile and talk to the class from his stool at the back of the studio as he wraps up their lesson. Dan holds their attention with ease, and Phil can get the sense he’s really passionate about pottery just from the way he moves. Phil would be lying if he said it wasn’t kinda hot.</p><p>As the class filters out, Dan cranes his neck over the crowd and whistles to the group Phil’s sitting in. By now, more people have filtered in, and Phil is a bit intimidated by the size of the class. Now he’s going to be the worst of twenty people rather than the worst of seven people. </p><p>Phil gets up and heads into the studio, plopping himself down at a wheel three-quarters of the way to the back. His hands are sweating now, making him worry that the sweat will ruin the clay, which only makes his hands sweat more.</p><p>Phil looks at the wheel in front of him. It might as well be an industrial-sized crane for all he knows about it. He clenches his jaw and tries to not ruin the experience for himself. Worse comes to worst, it was a gift. At least he’s not wasting his own money here. </p><p>A lump of clay is plopped onto Phil’s wheel, and he looks up, meeting Dan’s warm brown eyes. Dan’s eyes still on Phil for a moment, before continuing to distribute clay around the room. </p><p>Once he returns to the back of the studio, Dan sits down on his stool and claps his hands together. By now, the class is pretty much full, with only one or two stools left empty. </p><p>“Alright, hello, welcome!” Dan says looking around at the group. Phil notices now that he has a dimple, and he’s even hotter up close. Perhaps the experience won’t be a total loss. “My name’s Dan, and I’ll be your instructor today. I see a few familiar faces here,” he announces, pointing to a few people, “but I want you all to know that this is a beginner class, so there’s no need to worry.” Phil, however, continues to worry. “No question is too stupid. No creation is too ugly. Now, y’all ready to do some pot?”</p><p>The room is filled with laughter, Phil’s included. It’s clear that Dan makes this joke a lot, but it’s funny nonetheless. </p><p>On his own wheel, Dan demonstrates the basics of pottery-making. He shows the class how to throw clay, manipulate the shape, and even gets into some fancy technique with something called slip. Phil’s pretty sure he’ll be sticking to a bowl. Maybe a plate. Really, he’ll just let the clay decide. </p><p>It’s all a bit sensual, really, the way Dan’s dextrous hands run up and down the clay, his technique on display for the whole class to watch. His fingers are glistening with water and covered in bits of dried clay. The way he massages the lump in front of him… Well, Phil’s into it. He finds himself wishing Dan were only wearing the apron, so he could watch his muscles flex as he works his hands into the clay. He should have chosen a station closer to Dan.</p><p>“You want to really work your hands into it, make sure the clay’s warmed up and ready for you to use it,” Dan says.</p><p>Phil has never wanted to be clay so badly.</p><p>He’s not really paying attention to the class at all, to be honest. His brain has decided that this is some kind of private sexy show instead of an innocent hobby he’s trying to learn.</p><p>That’s why Dan’s announcement that it’s time for the class to start on their own pieces comes as such a shock. The wheels around Phil begin to spin, and Dan gets up from his stool. Phil just stares down at his lump of clay.</p><p>Phil glances over to the person sitting on his right. Their foot is on the pedal thing on the floor, and their hands are smoothing over the clay lump. Right, then.</p><p>Phil slams his foot down on his own pedal, and the wheel whirs into action so quickly that the clay is slammed against the side of the wheel. He yelps and takes his foot off the pedal.</p><p>“Woah, there, mate,” comes Dan’s voice, followed by a soft chuckle. “Need some help there?”</p><p>Phil looks up, and Dan is standing in front of his station, arms crossed and an adorable smile on his face. “Please,” Phil laughs.</p><p>Dan snorts and squats down level with Phil. He’s flexible, apparently. Dan picks up Phil’s sad little lump of clay and puts it back in the centre of his wheel.</p><p>“Right, so,” Dan says. “You’re gonna want to ease into the pedal, there.” Phil does so, pushing down the pedal much more slowly than before. Thank god no one’s trusted Phil to operate a car.</p><p>Phil’s wheel whirs to life, the grey lump spinning more quickly as he presses further down.</p><p>“Put your hands on the clay,” Dan orders. Phil obliges.</p><p>Under his fingertips, the clay is cold and slightly damp. It’s an odd texture he can’t exactly describe. It’s a bit gross, to be honest.</p><p>“Really dig your hands in there.”</p><p>Phil doesn’t want to.</p><p>“No, you’ve gotta—” Dan starts, a crease forming between his brow. “Here, wait.” He stands up, moving behind Phil. Phil hears him pull up a stool.</p><p>Phil’s eyes widen. “Are you about to <em> Ghost </em> me?”</p><p>Dan cackles behind him. Phil wishes he could see his face, see that dimple coming out in full force. “Yes, I’m about to <em> Ghost </em> you, if that’s alright,” he says teasingly.</p><p>Phil’s eyes go wide, and he hopes to God none of the other people in the class look his way to see the tomato red blush creeping up on his cheeks. He had been <em> joking, </em> for Christ’s sake. Phil stares pointedly down into his lump of clay as he feels large, warm hands grip his biceps from behind. Dan’s legs slot themselves on either side of Phil, taking care to maintain space between them. </p><p>“Right.” Dan clears his throat. “Let me know if I’m, like, being too touchy.” Phil doesn’t think that’ll be a problem, bar them fucking right in front of the rest of the class. Even then he’s not so sure.</p><p>Dan’s arms slide down to Phil’s forearms and guide his hands to the wheel. Phil starts it up slowly, letting the speed build as Dan works his hands into the clay. Dan’s hands are just so <em> big. </em></p><p>“Is this—?” Phil asks.</p><p>Phil feels Dan exhale warm breath on his neck. He holds back a shiver. “Yeah, like that.”</p><p>Phil swallows deeply. The room feels as if it had just been lit ablaze.</p><p>“I feel like I’m kneading pizza dough,” Phil says, desperate to say anything to break this tension he’s certainly made up in his head. “Call me Philipo Lesterino.”</p><p>Dan laughs at that terrible joke, more hot puffs of air coming out against Phil’s neck. “Yes, chef,” he mumbles, sounding almost fond. Hearing the squeak of Dan’s laugh so close to his ear makes Phil want to lick the sound right out of his mouth. As if that even makes any sense. He can’t remember the last time he was this turned on by a complete stranger.</p><p>Phil is suddenly aware of his own cock, which has begun to take interest in the strong arms of his teacher encircling him. Phil clenches his jaw, his feet, his legs, anything to will the blood elsewhere. He’s not even paying attention to the clay, just letting Dan guide his arms like he’s some sort of marionette doll. </p><p>“That’s the general movement,” Dan says. “You’ve got the clay warmed up now, so it should be pretty malleable. Feel free to make whatever you want, honestly. Just have fun with it.”</p><p>Phil feels Dan’s body heat slip away as he stands up, and nothing about it is fun at all. “Right, thanks,” Phil says in what he hopes is a very cheery-and-not-turned-on tone.</p><p>“Dan, could you come help with this?” someone calls from across the room. </p><p>“You got it, man,” Dan replies, leaving Phil to go teach someone actually teachable. </p><p>Phil stares at his lump of clay, now with its finger indents and warped shape. He puts his foot back down on the wheel and lays his hands on the clay, moving his fingers and wrists like Dan had shown him. The movement is therapeutic, almost. A bit mesmerizing.</p><p>Phil sits there, kneading his clay, not really intending to make anything. Rather, he figures he’ll just spend this class figuring out how to work the clay. He moves his hand in a motion that feels pretty natural to him, just letting the clay flow beneath his fingertips. He can see why people enjoy this, he thinks. There’s something peaceful about it. Something almost familiar.</p><p>It’s not until Dan reappears in his corner of the room and coughs that Phil realizes what he’s doing. He looks up into Dan’s blushing face, whose brown eyes are cast down at Phil’s creation. Phil looks down at his clay he’d been absent-mindedly massaging.</p><p>It’s… well, it’s phallic, to say the least.</p><p>“I,” Phil says dumbly, realizing suddenly that working the clay had felt natural to him for not-so-innocent reasons. “It’s, erm, well…” Phil panics. “It’s a rolling pin. I love to bake.” Phil can’t remember the last time he baked anything. </p><p>Dan looks up from Phil’s pottery and into Phil’s eyes. “Yeah, I love baking too,” he deadpans. Then, a smile spreads across his face as he and Phil both start to giggle. </p><p>“I am so sorry,” Phil says through his laughter. “I just—I didn’t realize what I was doing.”</p><p>Dan is smiling so widely Phil fears his face might split in half. “Hey, no judgment here. You wanna put that in the kiln?”</p><p>Phil doesn’t know what evil spirit possesses him to say yes.</p><p> </p><p>———</p><p> </p><p>It’s five days later when Phil finally finds the time away from work to pick up his piece. He rushes through Baked and Glazed’s front door, panting with the exertion of speed-walking the mile from his flat. </p><p>The studio is mostly empty, save for the overhead light at the front of the building. Della is at the front desk, seeming like she’s packing up for the night.</p><p>“Are you closed?” Phil asks.</p><p>Della gives him an apologetic look. “Closed ten minutes ago, sorry about that.”</p><p>“Shit. Okay, thanks.”</p><p>Phil is just about to turn and leave when a voice comes from the back of the store. “Hello?”</p><p>Phil whips his head around to see Dan emerging from the back room into the darkened studio. “Oh, hello,” Phil says, heart speeding up rapidly. Dan’s not wearing the apron now, and his curls are pushed off his face this time. His black sleeves are rolled up, and even in the darkened studio Phil knows he looks absolutely delectable.</p><p>“Phil, hey!” Dan replies, starting toward him and Della. “I was wondering when you’d be coming by to pick up your, uh, rolling pin.” He laughs. Phil goes beet red. </p><p>“Yeah, Della told me you guys are closed, sorry about that,” Phil says apologetically. “I’ll come back another time.”</p><p>“No, no, you’re here now. Won’t take long.” Dan’s reached the front of the studio now, and he slaps his hand down on the front desk. “You can head home. It’s fine,” he says to Della. She thanks him and grabs her bag.</p><p>“See you tomorrow, Dan!” Della calls as she heads out the door. Dan says bye one last time then turns back to Phil.</p><p>“Now,” Dan says, a smile creeping onto his face. “Let’s see about you, then?”</p><p>A mixture of shame and arousal washes over Phil. As if there’s much difference.</p><p>Dan’s eyes linger on Phil for a beat, then he turns. “Back here’s where we fire the pottery.” Phil follows Dan through the dim studio, taking extra care to not trip over anything in the dark. Dan leads them to a small room off to the side. The walls are all lined with unglazed pottery of all shapes and sizes: pots, bowls, mugs, and even some more intricate decorative pieces. In the centre of the room there are three kilns. </p><p>Dan flicks on the light, and Phil rubs his eyes as he adjusts to the lights. Dan walks up to the shelf on the right, finger trailing across the shelves as he searches. “I think yours should be…” he mumbles. “Here!” He plucks Phil’s embarrassment off the shelf and holds it up like a wand. “Really fantastic work, Phil.”</p><p>Phil buries his face in his hands. “I am so embarrassed.”</p><p>Dan laughs. “What? You don’t think you’ll get good use out of it?” Dan winks.</p><p>Phil’s not sure he heard Dan correctly. Did Dan just ask if he—?</p><p>“Oh, I’ll definitely get good use out of it,” Phil replies, unsure what compelled him to speak such horrible words. </p><p>Dan’s eyebrows raise. “Will you now?” he asks, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Jesus Christ.</p><p>What the hell, Phil figures, it’s not his money anyway. He can always just give the class vouchers to someone else if he can never return. “For sure,” he replies, pitching his voice slightly lower. He moves into Dan’s space. Swallows deeply. “Wanna know how?” he whispers in Dan’s ear.</p><p>Dan lets out a small moan and drops his head to Phil’s shoulder. “Yes.” Well that was easy.</p><p>Phil's arousal his him so quickly he feels like he might pass out.</p><p>“First I’m going to tease it around your lips, let you get it all wet.”</p><p>“I have good lips for that.”</p><p>“You do,” Phil agrees. “I’ll let you suck on it." He pauses. "What does clay taste like?”</p><p>“Don’t know.”</p><p>“Well you’re gonna find out.” Dan doesn’t know why it’s hot, but he can’t hold back a small moan.</p><p>“Is that even safe?”</p><p>“Don’t care.” Phil pushes Dan back, moves them up against one of the shelves. The pottery clatters slightly as Dan is pressed against it. Phil licks a stripe up the portion of Dan’s neck that isn't covered by his turtleneck. “Then I’ll let you lick me open and use it on me.”</p><p>“Please,” Dan whines, pulling Phil in closer by his belt loops. Phil can feel that Dan’s just as hard as he is. He slots a leg between Dan’s.</p><p>“You want that?” Phil asks, voice innocent. </p><p>“Please,” Dan repeats, turning his face to suck kisses into the base of Phil’s neck. Phil groans. “Not here,” he whispers against Phil’s skin, breathing heavily already. “Can’t knock over the pottery.”</p><p>Dan pushes Phil off him and grabs Phil’s hand, dragging Phil along as he almost jogs to his stool at the back of the studio. The room is still mostly dark, with only a few traces of light making it back here from the front of the store. </p><p>Phil sits down on the stool, achingly hard, and Dan sits right on his lap, straddling him. Their cocks are pressed together, albeit through far too many layers of clothes. Phil pulls their foreheads together, both their mouths hanging open, just breathing into each other’s space for a moment. Dan’s eyes are transfixed on Phil’s lips. Phil grinds up as much as he can, and earns a moan in response. </p><p>Slowly, Dan brings the piece of pottery to his own lips, and Phil takes it from his hand. Phil traces the tip of it around Dan’s glistening pink lips, letting it gather up some of that wetness. Dan darts out his tongue to circle the tip, eyes boring into Phil's. Phil can’t hold back his moan.</p><p>“So pretty,” he whispers, eyes glazed over with desire as he watches Dan lick and suck at the tip of the pottery. “Open up.”</p><p>Dan obliges, opening his mouth just wide enough for Phil to fit the piece in his mouth, Dan’s eyes staring into Phil’s the whole time. Dan closes his lips around the pottery, forming a loose seal. Phil begins to move it, just shallow thrusts, in and out. He feels it in his groin as if it were his own cock.</p><p>Dan’s eyes stay on Phil, and Phil’s eyes are glued to Dan’s lips. The way they squish as Phil moves the pottery in and out of his mouth. The way they get the pottery so wet. The way the piece turns darker with his spit.</p><p>“God,” Phil moans, cock straining against his jeans. A glance down tells him Dan is in the same position. He removes the piece from Dan’s mouth and immediately replaces it with his own lips. Dan's mouth is warm and wet, and Phil can taste the pottery dust on him. Slowly, Dan teases Phil’s bottom lip with his tongue, and it’s almost too much. It’s not enough.</p><p>Phil pulls back from the kiss and pushes Dan slightly, signalling for him to get up. Dan stands, and Phil follows.</p><p>“Strip,” Phil orders, already pulling his own shirt off, and Dan cocks an eyebrow.</p><p>“Someone’s eager,” Dan replies, stripping.</p><p>Phil cracks a small smile, pulling down his trousers and pants in one go. “Yeah, you.” Dan huffs out a laugh. Still smiling, Phil surges forward and kisses Dan swiftly, briefly. Dan’s mouth tastes minty and a bit earthy. <em> Wonder why</em>, Phil thinks amusedly<em>. </em>He's suddenly hit by how ridiculous this all is, letting his sexy pottery instructor fuck him with a piece of clay. He loves it. In their close embrace, Phil can feel the entirety of Dan against the entirety of him. It’s warm, and sweaty, and soft, and Phil wants to live right here forever. </p><p>Phil turns around and knees over the stool, his chest on the seat and his knees on the cold tile floor. “I’m not usually this much of a slut, but, fuck,” Phil pants, burning face buried in his arms as he hears Dan kneeling behind him.</p><p>“God, please be this much of a slut all the time,” Dan whispers, voice sounding a bit raw. “Hands stay above your head.”</p><p>Phil feels Dan’s tongue tease right below his left cheek, and his whole body tenses. He moans, loud.</p><p>Dan presses kisses into the skin of Phil’s ass, his legs, his thighs. He kisses all the way down to Phil’s knee, nearing the floor, then trails a teasing tongue all the way up his inner thigh, stopping right below Phil’s balls. Phil shivers.</p><p>Suddenly, Dan’s warm tongue is gone, and then Dan's hands are pulling Phil’s cheeks apart, and then Dan’s tongue is swirling around Phil’s hole.</p><p>Dan hums into Phil as Phil cries out, and if Dan isn’t inside him in the next ten seconds Phil thinks he’s going to catch fire. Phil feels Dan press his lips down on his hole, tongue still pressing at him, and suck. He doesn’t know how he isn’t blacking out. Dan laps at Phil’s entrance, sucking little kisses on his hole, teasing Phil, driving him insane. Phil is making these little noises, soft moans, aborted pleas. </p><p>In an act of mercy, Dan stiffens his tongue and plunges the tip into Phil. He works Phil open with his mouth, massaging his hole until he’s able to take all of Dan’s tongue. Phil can’t take the wet sounds of Dan sucking at him, getting his hole so slick. So ready for Dan.</p><p>Dan plunges his tongue all the way into Phil, and then he pulls out completely. Before Phil can complain, though, he feels something cold at his entrance. His face is burning.</p><p>Dan works the tip of the pottery into Phil, biting his lip raw.</p><p>“Phil, holy fuck,” he says breathlessly into the dark studio.</p><p>He begins to work the tip of the pottery slowly, in and out of Phil, until Phil’s hole relaxes enough to take more. He starts making shallow thrusts, plunging the clay dildo into Phil, watching as Phil’s hole flexes around it. </p><p>“Please,” Phil whimpers. “More.”</p><p>Dan holds the base of the pottery tightly as he pushes the rest of it into Phil. Phil starts to buck his hips against the stool, searching for friction, something to fuck into, but finding nothing. It’s the hottest thing Dan’s ever seen.</p><p>Dan begins to thrust in earnest, working the clay dildo in and out of Phil at a punishing pace. Phil lets out a string of whimpers and pleas again as he squirms more on the stool. Dan wonders what it would be like if he emptied Phil right now, just to fuck his own cock into him. </p><p>“Touch yourself,” Dan orders, and it’s the greatest sentence Phil has ever heard. Dan watches as Phil moves his arm down from above his head and his elbow begins to jerk back and forth rapidly. Dan trails his free hand from his chest down to his own cock, forming a tight ring at the base with his fingers. His other hand is still pounding the dildo into Phil, not letting up his bruising rhythm. Dan moves his hand on his cock so it’s circling his tip, gathers a bit of the wetness gathered there, and forms a fist. </p><p>Then, Dan fucks his fist as he fucks Phil, and it’s too much, and it’s just enough.</p><p>Phil cries out and Dan watches his hole spasm around the dildo, muscles contracting as he climaxes. The whimpers Phil lets out push Dan over the edge, and he lets go, pumping out hot liquid over Phil’s pale white thighs.</p><p>Dan collapses on top of Phil, both their chests heaving, and pulls the dildo out of Phil. Both their chests are heaving as if they’d run a marathon.</p><p>“I can’t believe we just did that,” Phil says, followed by a laugh. Dan squeezes his bicep.</p><p>“I can’t believe you made a dildo at a pottery class.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is soooo ridiculously cursed and was written in between christmas preparations so i apologize for .... everything this is</p></blockquote></div></div>
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